


A Noble Christmas (A Yuletide Romance)

by Serenitys_Lady



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Christmas, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 14:11:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5336972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serenitys_Lady/pseuds/Serenitys_Lady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor suggests the unthinkable: Christmas in Chiswick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Noble Christmas (A Yuletide Romance)

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is a sequel, of sorts, to A Proper Christmas, and there are references to events that take place there. But it’s not essential to have read that (or to go read it now), but, as an author, I would love it if you did!
> 
> Grateful thanks to bas_math_girl for making sure I didn’t muck up a perfectly good English Christmas!

“You want to do **WHAT**?!?!?!

Donna Noble whipped around from the counter in the TARDIS kitchen where she was chopping vegetables for the stew she was preparing for dinner, and faced the skinny alien leaning too casually in the doorway. “Have you gone completely mental?” she asked, loudly. (Her voice carried well at the best of times, but when she was angry or upset, it took on a forcefulness and resonance that any Greek orator would have envied. And when she was particularly wound up, it increased in both pitch and decibel level to the point of painfulness.) “Or have you been at that brandy we got on that weird little market planet?” A sudden thought struck and she dropped the knife on the counter. “Did you smack your head again getting out from underneath the console??” She stormed over to him and thrust her hand into his already mussed hair, searching for a tell-tale bump.

“Stop that!” the Doctor cried, batting her hands away. He took a couple of steps to the right, putting the kitchen table squarely between himself and his irate companion. (He was relieved that she had put down the sharp implement before charging at him.) “I am not drunk. Nor am I concussed.” He stared across the table at her defiantly. “I don’t see as how it is particularly _‘mental’_ to suggest spending Christmas with your family this year.”

Donna could not believe what she was hearing. “And in just what universe would **_that_** be considered a good idea?!? You’ve met my Mum, yeah? And besides, I've told you before. I **hate** Christmas!”

Her words struck him like a dagger in his hearts. He leaned back against the wall and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. “I had hoped that...well...after last year...”

Donna looked at his crestfallen face and heard the disappointment and hurt in his voice. She moved around the table and put her hand to his cheek. “Oh, Doctor. I’m sorry. Last Christmas was wonderful, the best I’ve ever had. I’ve never had anyone treat me so, well, special.” She looked up at him and saw the sadness in his eyes. She frowned and stepped back. “You really want to do this.” It was a statement, not a question. “It means that much to you?”

He looked away so he didn’t have to meet her gaze. He couldn’t tell her the real reason, so he prevaricated a bit. “Last year was special for me too. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed that Earth festival, and, seeing all those people in the church reminded me that it was a family celebration and, well, you haven’t been home in a while and,” he stopped and sighed. “Your family is the closest thing I have to one, so I just thought….” He trailed off.

Donna put her hands on his shoulders and turned him to face her. She looked deeply into his eyes and was startled to see the depth of the loneliness she saw there. She sometimes forgot he was a centuries old entity who has seen and done things that kept him isolated and solitary. She felt her heart do a little flip and she made the decision to not refuse him this request, in spite of her misgivings.

“Well,” she said, giving his cheek a little pat. “I suppose I can put up with my Mum for a couple of days. And I know Gramps will be thrilled.” She walked back to the counter and picked up with chopping knife. Whirling around, she gestured at him with it saying, “And you are staying with me the entire bloody time. No swanning off back to the TARDIS when things go pear-shaped.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, with a wide grin and a mock salute, immensely pleased that she acquiesced. “Staying put and no swanning off.”

He walked out of the kitchen and back to the control room to set the coordinates. He chuckled when he heard Donna shout after him from the kitchen, “And you own me a beach, Spaceman!”

 

Sylvia Noble stood in the kitchen of the house she shared with her father Wilfred Mott, getting out the ingredients their Christmas Eve meal. Wilf was hiding out in the lounge, sitting on the sofa with the television tuned to a Christmas programme, a choir of cherubic little boys in red robes and white surplices. The volume was a touch on the loud side, and Wilf was singing along with them, a little off-key but with great enthusiasm.

Sylvia walked into the hallway. “Dad!” she shouted. “Will you please turn that down!? I can barely hear myself think. I swear. After the holidays, I’m taking you in to have your hearing checked!”

Wilf dutifully lowered the volume and sighed. He really didn’t need it that loud. He just sometimes had to tune out his daughter’s criticisms and complaining. He thought it better to pretend he didn’t hear her on occasion than to get into a shouting match over her negativity. She was his daughter and he loved her, but she could make a saint despair.

No sooner had he stepped back from the television than he heard a loud knock at the front door. “Whoever could _that_ be?” Sylvia shouted from the kitchen. “Did you invite your cronies over without telling me?” she groused.

Wilf headed toward the door, muttering to himself. ‘‘Got better sense than _that_!” He flipped the lock and slowly opened the door, and immediately began to whoop and dance. “Sylvia!!” he called out. “Look who it is!!! And just in time for Christmas!!”

Sylvia rolled her eyes and walked out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a tea towel. She grumbled as she came, muttering about old men and practical jokes. She reached her father and asked, “Well? What are you going on about?”

Wilf stepped aside, grinning, allowing her to see Donna standing on the front steps, her arms loaded down with wrapped packages, and the Doctor hanging back slightly behind her. Mother and daughter stared at each other for a few moments, before Sylvia remarked sarcastically, “So. Decided to grace us with your presence this year, I see.”

Donna winced at her acerbic tone. Her immediate reaction would have been to make an equally sarcastic remark and storm back to the TARDIS, but she had promised herself she behave for the Doctor’s sake. So all she said was, “Hello, Mum.”

The Doctor strode over to Sylvia and, putting out his hand, said cheerfully, “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Noble. I hope this isn’t too much of an inconvenience, us showing up here with no notice.”

Sylvia ignored his outstretched hand and turned to Donna and sniped, “Oh, goody. You’ve brought **_him_**!”

Donna gritted her teeth and took a quick breath before she answered. “Actually, Mum. He brought _me_. This was his idea. Said Christmas was for family.”

Sylvia looked over at the Doctor, startled at this revelation. He smiled at her and wiggled his fingers in a gesture of ‘hello’. She turned back to Donna and said, “Well, come in and shut the door. You’re letting out all the heat.” She retreated back into the kitchen, a little unsettled, and she hated being unsettled.

Wilf opened the door wide to let Donna and the Doctor enter. He took some of the packages from her and tried, at the same time, to shake the Doctor’s hand. They all laughed at this and went down the hall to the lounge. Wilf and Donna deposited the packages under the tree that stood in the corner, curiously devoid of ornaments or tinsel. She looked between the tree and her grandfather. “What gives, Gramps?”

Darting a look toward the kitchen, Wilf lowered his voice and replied, “She wasn’t gonna put one up at all this year. Last year was hard on her, what with Geoff gone and you off with the Doctor. I made her get that one last week. I just had a feeling we’d need it this year. She’s been puttin’ off doin’ the actual decoratin’. Now you both can help!”

“I’m so sorry, Gramps,” Donna replied, giving his a quick hug. “I guess I’d better go face the music.” She steeled herself and went to join her mother in the kitchen.

Sylvia was at the counter cutting potatoes to be added to the pot of leeks for soup. She didn’t turn around when she heard Donna enter the kitchen. “Mum?” she asked, tentatively. “Can I help with anything?”

The older woman didn’t answer, but merely held out the knife. Donna quickly went over to the counter and resumed the task. “Bit of a surprise, I guess. Us turning up like this.”

Her mother returned to the stove, slowly stirring the pot of leeks. “It’s a bit of a surprise when you turn up at all,” she remarked, snidely.

“Oh, Mum. Don’t be like that,” Donna begged. 

Sylvia whirled around and faced her daughter. “Are you sleeping with him?” she demanded.

Donna’s eye widened and she gasped. “ **NO!!** ” she cried. “Of course not!! He’s not like that! How can you possibly think that??!!”

“How should I know what he’s like?” she retorted. “You run off with a total stranger, going who knows where, doing who knows what. And he’s not even _human_ , if you’re to be believed.”

Donna suddenly realized how things must look to her very conventional mother. That thought had the immediate effect of stemming her angry outburst. She put down the knife and took her mother’s hand, sitting her down at the table. “Mum,” she began. I am so sorry. When he asked me to travel with him, I was so excited, I didn’t think. I didn’t think it would matter whether I was here or not. But don’t blame the Doctor. He’s a wonderful man, I mean alien, oh, whatever! He respects me, Mum. He makes me feel special, important.”

Donna sat back in her chair. “Let me tell you a little bit about the Doctor. Yes, he’s an alien. And he’s over 900 years old.” Sylvia gasped. “I know!” Donna snorted. “But I guess for his people that would have been young. Or young-ish.” She got serious suddenly. “He’s all alone, Mum. His planet. It’s gone.”

“Gone?” Sylvia scoffed. “What do you mean, gone? How do you lose a planet?”

Donna smiled sadly. “Not lost. Gone. There was a war. And it was destroyed, with everyone on it. His family, his friends, everything he ever knew. He’s the only one of his kind left in the universe. He’s lonely, Mum. Desperately lonely sometimes. Oh, he won’t admit it, of course, stubborn git. When he asked me to come with him, he said he just wanted a friend. And so that’s what I am. I try to be the best friend I possibly can. When he got this bonkers idea in his head about spending Christmas with ‘family’, I couldn’t refuse. So I am asking you. Please. Can we just have a couple of days without all the drama? I know I’m a disappointment to you. I've accepted that. But it doesn’t matter. Don’t do it for me. Do it for him. Please.”

Sylvia sat silently, overwhelmed by all that Donna had told her. She never imagined that someone who acted as daft as the Doctor could be harbouring such feelings of loneliness. And Donna’s admission that she thought she was a disappointment and she didn’t matter startled her. But Sylvia’s cynicism and critical nature were so ingrained into her personality that she had to consciously force herself to not make the biting comment that came so naturally to her mind. Hearing her daughter plead with her to show consideration for that… _person_ …she had taken up with irritated her, but, at the same time, tugged at her heart. 

“Oh, very well,” she sniffed, trying to hide the fact that she had been touched by Donna’s words. “I’ll try. But for _your_ sake, not his. And because it’s Christmas.”

Donna leapt up and hugged Sylvia tightly. “Thanks, Mum. You have no idea what this means.”

Christmas Eve dinner was actually a rather pleasant affair, after all. Donna engaged her mother in conversation, asking about her Wednesday girls, and her job. Sylvia was making an effort to remain civil, if not exactly warm. Wilf told stories about his gang of friends, and Donna teased him about Minnie Hooper and her obvious attentions. The Doctor remained uncharacteristically quiet, leaving it to Donna to reveal what portions of their experiences she felt were appropriate.

After devouring an excellent mince pie for afters, Wilf filled his thermos with tea and declared his intention to spend some time ‘up the hill’, inviting Donna to join him. “I’ll be up later, Gramps,” she replied. “After I help Mum with the dishes.”

“Oh, I can do that,” the Doctor chimed in immediately.

“Do what?” Donna asked suspiciously.

“Help with the washing up.”

Donna stared at him, frowned, strode over and grabbed him by the tie. “Who are you and what have you done with the Doctor?” she asked sarcastically.

He laughed and pulled her hand away. “No alien possession involved! You make it sound like I’ve never helped before.” She raised her eyebrows. “I’ve helped. Lots of times. Well, sometimes. Well, I distinctly remember doing it after we got back from that moon with the funny spotted flowers you liked.”

She rolled her eyes. “The funny spotted flowers that gave me a rash, you mean. You _had_ to wash up. I was scratching up a storm!”

“In any case, you go on along with Wilf. I’m sure he has lots to show you. I’ll be perfectly fine here with your mother.” He turned to give Sylvia a big smile. Taking Donna by the hand, he walked into the hall to retrieve her coat and practically pushed her out the back door. When she and Wilf had left, the Doctor returned to the kitchen, taking off his suit jacket and laying over the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

“So, Mrs. Noble,” he said, as he began to roll up his shirt sleeves. “I’ll wash, you dry. How does that….”

He stopped short. Sylvia was leaning against the counter, her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. She glared at him and demanded, “Just what the hell do you think you’re playing at?!”

The Doctor was startled by her outburst. “Sorry?” he asked quizzically.

“I don’t believe for one minute that you just suddenly decided that Christmas Eve would be a grand time for a visit,” she stated. “What are you really doing here?”

The Doctor was a very smart person. He knew instinctively that he was not going to be able to bluster and bluff Sylvia Noble, any more than he could with her daughter. He decided that it would be prudent if he just stepped up and told the truth. “Mrs. Noble, I’ll be honest with you.”

“I’ll be the judge of _that_ ,” she snapped back.

“Yes. Well.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “You may not believe this, but I really did want Donna to spend Christmas among family. But.” He stopped and swallowed. “You’re right. I did have an ulterior motive for coming here.” He stopped again, clearly uncomfortable. “It’s about Donna. I need your help.”

Sylvia stood straight up and glared at him. “NO!” she shouted. “Oh no! Don’t you dare! You’ve grown tired of her and now you want to get rid of her. Well, let me tell you something, Mister High-and-Mighty-Alien. If you think I’d help you, that I’d raise one little finger to make it easier for you to just dump her back here in Chiswick, then you’ve got another think coming!”

“Blimey!!” the Doctor exclaimed. “I can see where Donna gets her temper. **AND** her penchant for jumping to the most outrageous conclusions possible! You’ve got it the wrong way around. I’m not trying to get _rid_ of her. I want to convince her to stay. Forever!!”

Sylvia was taken a bit aback. That was certainly not what she expected to hear him say. She continued to glare at him and said, “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

He closed his eyes and took a very deep breath. “Please. Let me explain. It’s a rather long story, so why don’t we sit down.”

“I’m perfectly happy standing, thank you very much.” Her eyes dared him to change her mind.

He cleared his throat, choking back a comment about a mother-and-daughter common trait. “Ah. Well, then. Okay. Please bear with me. I am absolute rubbish with this sort of thing.” He rubbed his neck again. “When Donna found me again after the Adipose incident, I told her I just wanted a mate, a friend to share adventures with. And she is. She is my best friend in the whole wide universe. And it’s been fine; it’s been lovely. Now, last year, I decided I wanted to show her a proper Christmas, since she says she’s not much of a fan, and well, with the whole wedding and all, I could kind of understand that.” 

He looked over at Sylvia, who was still actively glaring. He quickly continued before she could comment. “I took her for a really lovely dinner at a private club, a horse-and-carriage ride in the park. We even spent a bit of time in church. When we got back to my ship, the cheeky thing, she…”

“Are you calling my daughter cheeky!?” Sylvia demanded, interrupting his narrative.

“What?! No!” He chuckled to himself at the misunderstanding. “I meant my ship. My TARDIS. She’s a sentient being. _She_ was the cheeky one, having decorated the control room, complete with mistletoe. So Donna and I, well, we did what is usually done. We had a little kiss under the mistletoe, like two good friends.” He noted her glare deepening. “Really! Just two good friends. Nothing more!”

His hand started back up to his neck, and he caught himself. “Anyway,” he went on. “A while ago, when we were visiting Agatha Christie…”

Sylvia interrupted again. “Hang on. You’re telling me you met Agatha Christie. How is that even possible?”

“Mrs. Noble,” the Doctor explained patiently. “My TARDIS. She not only travels through space, she travels through time as well It’s a time machine. I can go anywhere and any _when_. Now, if I may continue.” She nodded, grudgingly. “While we were at Agatha’s, I was poisoned. And in order to detoxify, to expel the poison, I needed a shock. And Donna gave me a right good one. She grabbed me by the lapels and kissed me to within an inch of my life!” He sighed and leaned back against the kitchen wall. “And I haven’t been able to think of anything else since.”

Sylvia was more than a little confused. “What are you saying?” she asked slowly. “Are you accusing Donna of being a tart?”

“No! No! No! NO!!” he exclaimed. “See? I said I was rubbish at this.” He crossed the room and stood right in front of Sylvia, grabbing her hand. “Mrs. Noble, I think I love her, and I don’t know what to do about it!”

Again, a declaration of love by the Doctor was the farthest thing from what Sylvia expected. And from her conversation earlier with Donna, she realized that her daughter was probably on her way to being in love with him. She wasn’t sure how she felt about this development. To give herself some time to think, she led him back over to the kitchen table. “I think, perhaps, we _should_ sit down for this.”

He politely held out the chair for her to sit and then bounded over to the one opposite her. “So, let me get this straight,” she said, more calmly than she really felt. “You’re telling me you’re in love with my daughter and you want my help to _woo her_!?!”

“Yes!” the Doctor replied excitedly. “Exactly! Woo her! What a great word: woo. That’s exactly what I want to do. Woo her.” He looked at her, his eyes wide with anticipation. “What do I do? I fancy her something fierce and I _think_ she feels the same way. But there’s that stupid ‘just friends’ rubbish hanging over our heads. Daftest thing I ever did, that.”

Sylvia sat, watching him talk, seeing the sincerity suffusing his face. She was amazed. “You’re serious,” she said. “You really do love her.”

“Madly,” he said simply.

“But you’re not _human_! Is that even possible?

The Doctor tugged on his ear, another little nervous habit. “Welllll,” he drawled. “Yes. I’m not human. I’m a Time Lord. It’s not widely talk about, not ever. It’s kind of a Time Lord embarrassment, in fact, but humans and Time Lords actually share a common ancestor. So it is possible. In fact, it’s most probable.” Seeing Sylvia’s questioning look, he clarified. “Erm, cross-species procreation, that is.” He couldn’t help the slight blush that tinged his face.

Sylvia stared at him, noting first the pink tone of his normally pale face, and then understanding the meaning of his words. She sat back, shocked. “Are you saying…?”

“Yep,” he replied, popping the final ‘p’. “It’s entirely possible for Donna to bear my children.”

“And you’d want that?”

He smiled warmly. “With all my hearts. Mrs. Noble, I’ve been a father. But they’re gone. I never thought I’d want it ever again; the pain of losing them was too great. Oh, I’ve had opportunities in the past, but it never seemed right.”

“And it does now? With Donna?” she asked sincerely.

“Oh, yes! I can’t really explain it. But there’s a connection between us that I have never felt with anyone before, not even my wife on Gallifrey. So please. Tell me. What do I do to convince her?”

Sylvia sat back and told him honestly. “You don’t.” At the sight of his crestfallen face, she reached over and patted his hand. Smiling, she continued. “You’ll never _convince_ Madam of anything. You know her. She’s independent and stubborn. She knows her own mind. They’ll be no _convincing_ involved.”

“But…” he stammered.

“You just tell her how you feel. Like you told me. Donna doesn’t suffer fools gladly. So, don’t be a fool. Be honest.” She stopped to let this sink in. “You’re going to have to let her make the decision, you know. The only thing you can do is follow her lead. Don’t try to force her.” She made herself ask the next logical question. “Doctor? What will you do if she says ‘No’?”

The Doctor closed his eyes, his hearts clenching as he pondered her question. Finally, he opened them and sighed. “If all she wants is to be friends, I can live with that. I would rather have a part of her, than none at all. She’s that important. I’ll make it work.”

Sylvia smiled at him and said, “Well, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that, in any case. But I warn you, Doctor. If you do _anything_ to hurt my daughter, you will have **me** to answer to!”

He felt his hearts jump at the hope her words gave him. “I won’t, Mrs. Noble. I promise.”

“Well,” she replied with a tiny, sly grin. “If you are going to be my son-in-law someday, I think you can stop calling me ‘Mrs. Noble’.”

He grinned widely. “How about _‘Mum’_?”

She frowned at him and sniped, “Don’t push your luck, Time Lord. Sylvia will do quite nicely. Now, these dishes won’t do themselves.”

He jumped up and began rolling up his leaves, grabbing a sponge. “Yes, Ma’am!”

 

Up the hill, Donna was sitting on a thick blanket, pouring tea into the lid of the thermos. Handing it to Wilf, she said, “So, he made you drag me up here, didn’t he?”

Wilf took a sip of his tea before he answered. “He’s just lookin’ out for ya, sweet’art. Give ya some quality time with your ol’ Gramps.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t try to play the innocent with me, old man,” she smirked. “He’s up to something. I know he is.” She pulled her coat tighter to keep out the night chill. “So what do you think they’re doing in there? I don’t hear any shouting, or crockery breaking.”

Wilf handed her the cup of tea, and she took it gratefully. “Oh, I reckon they’re just talkin’.”

She laughed cynically. “The Doctor and Mum?! What on Earth could they possibly have to talk about?!” she asked before sipping the warm beverage.

“Why, you, a’course.”

Donna almost choked on a mouthful of tea. “ _ME_!!??” she exclaimed. “Why would he be talking to her about _me_?!”

Wilf put on his most guileless expression. “Probably askin’ for her blessing.”

She frowned, considering his statement. “Her blessing for _what_?” she asked suspiciously. He just looked back at her and grinned. She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes for a moment, trying to work out what he was being so cagey about. Suddenly, her eyes popped open and she gaped at him. “Oh, Gramps! Don’t be daft! We’re friends! He was very clear about that. He just wants a mate!”

“People change, sweet’art.”

“Not the Doctor. _Especially_ the Doctor!” She sat, fingering the volcanic stone pendant she wore. The sudden emotion that coursed through her at the implication of her grandfather’s words both excited and scared her. “Why would you even think that?”

“I seen the way he looks atcha, Donna. And I recognize that look. It’s the same one that was plastered on my face any time I saw your Nan. I’m tellin’ ya. The boy’s besotted!” Seeing her shake her head, he decided to take a different tack. “That’s a lovely necklace ya got there. Where’dya get it? On one of your adventures?”

Donna smiled. “The Doctor gave it to me last Christmas. Oh, Gramps. He planned out this whole amazing night! A carriage ride. Dinner. It was wonderful. And when we got back to the TARDIS, he gave me these,” she explained, indicating the pendant and earrings. She blushed a bit when she remembered how that evening ended, with the kiss under the mistletoe.

“Oh, _he_ gave it to ya, eh?” Wilf repeated, with a touch more emphasis on the pronoun.

“Oh, Gramps. Don’t start. He was just being nice. I’m his friend. That’s all I am. Yeah, maybe I wish it was different. But you know what? I’ll take as I can get. As long as he lets me, I’ll be content with just being his friend and travelling through time and space.”

Wilf reached over and took her hands in his. “Now, sweet’art. Don’t you go givin’ up ‘ope. Just watch and listen. Follow his lead. You may be surprised.”

Donna leaned over and kissed her grandfather’s cheek. “You’re a daft old man, but I love you!”

Just then, Sylvia’s voice (which carried almost as well as her daughter’s) shattered the stillness of the night. “Dad!” she shouted. “You’ll catch your death sitting out there in the cold air. And _you_ , Madam. There is a Christmas tree waiting to be trimmed and I am not doing alone again this year! Come inside, the both of you!”

Donna and Wilf looked at each other and laughed. Gathering up the blankets and thermos, they made their way back to the house, hung their coats in the hall, and proceeded into the lounge. Donna had to stop herself from laughing out loud at the sight of the Doctor, sitting cross-legged on the floor, trying to straighten out a string of knotted fairy lights. His glasses were perched at the end of his nose, his mouth slightly open and his tongue pressed against the back of his front teeth as he concentrated on the task.

Looking up as they entered, he grinned widely. “Fairy lights!” he exclaimed, holding them up for Donna to see. “I _love_ fairy lights! We should get some for the TARDIS!! Although it’s baffling how they always manage to tangle themselves so thoroughly. Cheeky things. I think they do it just to annoy us. Ah, well. That’s part of the fun of Christmas, yeah?”

“Less talking and more work, young man,” Sylvia retorted. “Those lights have to go on first.”

“Oh! Sorry, Sylvia,” the Doctor replied. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his sonic screwdriver. Flicking the dial, he aimed the device at the snarled pile of lights, and they immediately sorted themselves into a smooth, straight string. “It’s cheating, but it does the job. _Tempus fugit_ and all that.”

Donna stood there, gobsmacked at the easy banter between her mother and the Doctor. Something significant had happened while she was outside, and she decided to take her grandfather’s advice, and watch and listen.

Once the lights were sorted, the Doctor wound them around the 7-foot fir tree and Sylvia plugged them in. The coloured lights gave the room a cheery glow. For the next hour, Donna and the Doctor decorated the tree, light-heartedly arguing about the placement of the ornaments, until they were directed by Sylvia to pay attention to the task at hand. Donna told him stories about the origins of some of them, sharing tales of Christmases past. They were joined by Wilf, who threw handfuls of tinsel at the tree, laughing when his daughter came and removed most of it and arranged the rest ‘more tastefully’.

Donna got misty-eyed when Sylvia handed the porcelain angel to the Doctor and asked him if he would like to place it on the top of the tree. That honour had always been her father Geoff’s, the last item that completed the tradition. Donna watched as the Doctor stepped up on the small stool. He looked down and smiled at her with such warmth, and she noticed something else, something not quite definable, in his eyes. She smiled back and he gently positioned the angel perfectly on the top of the tree. Stepping down, he went over and put his arm around her shoulder, and they stood gazing at the twinkling lights.

They jumped apart, startled, when Sylvia’s voice broke into their quiet moment. “Donna, Dad and I are off to church. Are you coming?” She looked at them critically as she pulled on her coat.

Donna looked between her mother and the Doctor. She knew her mum would want her to go with her, and it had been such a nice evening so far that she didn’t want to ruin the good will that had been building. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to leave the Doctor on his own. He solved her dilemma by asking, “Would it be alright if I joined you?”

Both Sylvia and her daughter looked at him. “You want to go to church.” Sylvia stated sceptically.

“Of course,” the Doctor beamed. “I _love_ the music. It warms my hearts. Right, Donna?”

“It’s true, Mum,” she confirmed. “He’s just an old softy.”

Sylvia eyed him warily. “Well,” she huffed. “Hurry up. I don’t want to be late.”

The Doctor helped Donna with her coat and they hurried to catch up with her mother and grandfather. In spite of Sylvia’s dire warnings, they were not only on time, but even a little early for Midnight Mass at a St. Mary’s a few blocks away. Donna tried to slip into a back row, but Sylvia was having none of that. She marched up to her usual pew about half-way up the aisle and slide inside, followed by Wilf. Donna sat between her grandfather and the Doctor.

The church was dim when they first entered, but soon was filled with light from the candles that each person was handed when they entered. The flames cast a glow on the faces of the congregation, and Donna stole a glance up at the Doctor. He was absolutely entranced and his eyes were wide, taking it all in. The choir was divided and stood in opposite transepts, singing antiphonally before the Mass began. _‘Hodie Christus Natus Est!’_ and _‘Gloria In Excelsis Deo!’_ rang out clear and strong. During the service, the congregation joined in traditional Christmas carols, and the Doctor’s tenor rose sweetly. 

During a meditative moment, while the words of _‘Silent Night’_ drifted through the church, the Doctor reached over and took Donna’s hand. She looked up at him and saw, as she had the year before, tears shining in his eyes as he sang: _‘Holy infant, so tender and mild, sleep in heavenly peace.’_ She squeezed his hand and he smiled at her warmly. They remained that way, hand in hand, until the end of the service.

As the final carol reverberated through the church, the doors were flung open and the congregants poured out into the street. Sylvia and Wilf were greeted by many friends and wishes of ‘Merry Christmas’ were exchanged. The Doctor was introduced as Dr. John Smith, an acquaintance of Wilf’s from London. A few knowing smiles were directed Donna’s way, most notably by Minnie Hooper, who informed Wilf that, after the holidays, he _would_ be telling her all about ‘Donna’s young man’.

They walked home quickly, as the air was brisk and a cold breeze nipped at them. When they reached the house, the Doctor thanked Sylvia for the wonderful dinner and turned to go into the back garden where he had parked the TARDIS for the night. Sylvia startled him by asking sharply, “And just where do you think you’re going?”

“Erm,” he began. “Back to the TARDIS.”

“Nonsense,” she replied sternly. “You’re a guest in this house and there is no way I am allowing you to spend the night in a draughty old box! Now, come inside.” She unlocked the front door and they all dutifully followed her. Turning back to the Doctor, she stated, “The sofa is one of those pull out affairs. Donna, get some blankets and a pillow. Your room is still made up. Good night. Breakfast is at eight.” Then she strode up the stairs. After giving Donna a hug, Wilf too went up to his room.

The Doctor gave Donna a questioning look and she shook her head, indicating that it was best to just leave things be. She retrieved the linens, knowing full well they would be unused. When she came back, she placed them on the end of the sofa. “She’ll know if you try to leave,” she whispered. “Don’t ask me how, but she will.”

He grinned. “I don’t doubt that. I’ll be good and stay right here. No swanning off, remember?”

He walked her out into the hall and Donna stopped at the foot of the stairs. She reached up and touched his cheek. “Thank you, Spaceman. You were right. Christmas _is_ a time for families, and I’m glad you insisted we come. I’ll see you in the morning.” Impulsively, she stretched up and kissed his cheek. “G’night.” Then she bounded up the stairs.

The Doctor stood for several minutes, his fingers lightly touching the skin of his cheek where, seconds before, Donna’s lips had rested. A small smile appeared on his face, and gradually grew to a full-blown grin. He walked back into the lounge and stood in front of the Christmas tree. Taking the sonic screwdriver from his pocket, he aimed it, and the fairy lights sprang to life.

He was in the same position when Donna ventured down stairs a few hours later. He had removed his suit jacket and tie, and was in stocking feet, standing perfectly still gazing at the tree, the fairy lights being the only light in the room. He turned when he heard her pad across the floor. She walked over and stood next to him.

“You know, Father Christmas won’t come if you’re still awake,” she nudged him playfully.

“Oh, Jeff and I are old friends. I showed him how to use time loops to increase efficiency.”

“Of course, you did,” Donna replied sardonically.

“So,” the Doctor asked her. “What are you doing down here? I thought you’d be fast asleep.”

She pulled her dressing gown tighter around her. “I don’t know. I just couldn’t sleep. And I knew _you’d_ still be awake, so here I am.”

He looked back up at the angel sitting on the top of the tree. “I’m glad you are.” He paused and took a breath. “Donna, there’s something I need to say.”

Donna looked at him and frowned. “Well, that doesn’t sound half ominous. Did my mother threaten you or something?”

“No,” he chuckled. “Nothing like that. I, uh, well…”

“Oh just spit it out, Time Boy!”

“Okay,” he replied. “Donna, I’ve made a terrible mistake and I need to correct it. Please. Let me have my say before you get all angry and upset with me.”

“Oh, god,” Donna cried softly. “I _knew_ coming here was a bad idea. Now that you’ve met my family, you don’t want me anymore. You’re going to leave without me tomorrow, aren’t you?” She tried to hold back the tears that quickly formed.

The Doctor stared at her, his face a picture of disbelief. “What is it with you Noble women?? Always seeing the worst possible side of things!!” He took her hands and led her over to the sofa, and they sat. “First of all, let me assure you, I have no intention of leaving here, or _anywhere_ , without you. That said, there is something I need to tell you.”

Donna was more than a little apprehensive, despite his assurances. She sat silently, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t continue, she squeezed his hands. “Well?” she asked.

“Oh, ah, erm, yes. Well.” He stopped and just looked at her for a moment. “When I saw you across the boardroom at Adipose Industries, I have to say, I was shocked. I honestly never thought I’d ever see you again. But I was also thrilled! We had such fun, you and I and, well, I didn’t realize I had much I had missed you.” Again, he paused to collect this thoughts. “And last Christmas. You remember how that evening ended. Then there was Agatha’s. And the detox.”

Donna was becoming increasingly confused. She could tell he was extremely uncomfortable with this subject, but didn’t have an inkling as to how to help him. She could only wait, remembering her grandfather’s advice, to watch and listen. 

The Doctor took a deep breath. Sylvia had told him to just be honest, so he decided to be blunt. “Donna,” he said, “I just can’t do this. I just can’t be friends anymore.”

Donna pulled her hands away and stared, open-mouthed, at the floundering Time Lord. “What?!” she hissed, trying to keep her voice down. “Are you telling me that you can’t be friends with me because I kissed you to save your bloody life?!? What kind of gratitude is that?!?”

“Oh! No! No! No! NO!!” he exclaimed loudly. “That’s not what I meant at all. I’m not saying I can’t be friends with you because you **_kissed_** me. I’m saying I can’t be **_friends_** with you….because you kissed me! See?” His eyes implored her to understand.

Donna didn’t hear the difference in his statements at first, but after a few moments, comprehension dawn slowly and her heart fluttered in her chest. She looked over at him and was touched and amused at the same time. He looked so distraught and so completely, adorably pitiful that she couldn’t help but tease him a bit. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, shaking her head, all the while trying very hard to control her facial expression. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

His first reaction was one of disbelief, that here he was, baring his deepest feelings to her, and it wasn’t getting through to her. Then he caught the tiniest of twinkles in her eye, and he knew. He knew she was having him on, teasing him, as she was wont to do (and that he enjoyed, if he were really honest). So he decided to play along a bit.

“Donna,” he said mock-seriously. “As I said, I've made a terrible mistake. I don’t want **A** mate. I want **TO** mate!”

“Oh!” she countered. “Do you now? Well, you’re not mating with _me_ , Sunshine!”

This stopped him cold. “But Donna! I thought…. Is there anything I can do to change your mind?!?” 

She sat, eyeing him thoughtfully. Well,” she began. “There is one thing.”

“What!?! Tell me. Anything!” He was desperate.

She leaned over and put her hands on his knees. “You _could_ tell me you love me, you prawn!”

He laughed and grabbed her hands. “I can do that! Oh, Donna, this is marvellous! Brilliant even! So, you fancy me too, yeah?!”

She stared at him and him and said, solemnly. “I’m not saying that.”

“I’m sorry?!”

“I still haven’t heard the words, Time Boy!”

“Oh!” he laughed again. “Sorry! I told Sylvia I was rubbish at this.” Raising her hands to his lips, he recited as kissed her knuckles, “Donna Noble. My dearest friend and faithful companion. I (kiss) Love (kiss) You (kiss). Madly. Deeply.”

“And I love you, Spaceman.” Suddenly, she frowned at him. “Wait a minute. You told my _mum_ you loved me before you told **_me_**?!?”

He blushed a lovely shade of pink. “Well, yeah. I had to. I needed advice. I didn’t know what do!”

Donna thought about this for a second. “I guess that explains why she’s been so nice to me. I thought she’d been visited by three ghosts or something!”

The Doctor laughed. “No, no ghosts. Just one very insecure Time Lord.”

“You?” she scoffed. “Insecure?? Since when??”

“Since I met you. You unnerve me, Donna. You knocked me off my galactic centre the minute you materialized in the TARDIS in your wedding gown, all fire and shouting and gorgeous ginger hair, and I’ve never recovered. And between that pesky mistletoe and detoxing, I was lost.”

“Oh, my poor, poor alien,” she crooned, stroking his cheek and feeling him lean into her hand. “You know, Doctor. I think I need a bit of detox myself,” she said demurely.

The Doctor smiled down at her and pulled her close. He said softly, with a catch in his throat and the barest of a hint of tears in his eyes, “Right then. Big shock. Coming up.” And then he lowered his head and pressed his lips lightly to hers, increasing the pressure as he felt her respond. Knowing that Sylvia and Wilf were right upstairs, they contented themselves with kisses.

In truth, they both were a little nervous about this new direction in their relationship and, as they cuddled together on the sofa, they talked in hushed tones about taking things slowly. Feeling this cherished was a new sensation for Donna, and she wanted to enjoy it before things got too complicated, as relationships sometimes do.

For the Doctor, he was just relieved to not have to hide his feelings from her, to be able to hold her whenever he wanted or needed to. To know that, no matter what, she would always be there. He leaned back in the corner of the sofa, one leg stretched out, the other on the floor, with Donna’s back pressed tightly against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his nose in her hair. She lay against him and covered his hands with hers, absently rubbing her thumb over his wrist. “Merry Christmas, Spaceman,” she sighed.

“Merry Christmas, Earthgirl,” he breathed, kissing the top of her ginger head. “I love you.”

“Mmm,” she replied dreamily, and snuggled in closer. “Love you too.”

They were still in this position when Sylvia and Wilf descended the stairs the next morning. They stopped in the doorway to the lounge and looked at each other. Wilf chuckled and stated, “Guess they got it all worked out.”

Sylvia raised her eyebrows. “It would seem so.”

“Shouldn’t we wake ‘em?”

“Oh, let them sleep.” She walked quietly over and spread the unused blanket across the sleeping couple. “Come on, Dad. I’m sure the smell of coffee and bacon will do the trick. That young man has quite the appetite.”

The Doctor opened one eye as the two continued on to the kitchen, and smiled. Closing it again, he sighed. He had his hearts’ love in his arms and the promise of a grand breakfast on a beautiful Christmas morn. What more could centuries old Time Lord ever want?

Peace and joy to all my literary friends.

To quote a famous American poem:  
Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!


End file.
